


Lunch Break

by ahegaokin



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Trans Mettaton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahegaokin/pseuds/ahegaokin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burgerpants takes his lunch break, that's about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunch Break

Mettaton’s shoes are digging hard into Burgerpants’ spine, crushing the vertebrae under six inches of bright pink heel. It hurts, but he keeps lapping at the fever hot space between his thighs, on his knees, face shoved hard into his crotch. Burgerpants can’t breathe and Mettaton knows—the damned sadist.

“Mnh—”

“Shh, shh, you’re doing fine,” he coos. He rolls his hips—that means suck, now, so he does, obediently, eagerly. Mettaton’s massaging his ears, rolling one between his white fingers, head tipped back, throat exposed.

Burgerpants wishes he could just—

It’s like Mettaton can hear him thinking about wringing his pretty neck, because he grabs his head and shoves his face deeper without warning. All Burgerpants can do is gasp around wet mouthfuls of his boss, moaning weakly.

Mettaton purrs in his silky smooth voice, “Good boy.” His heel digs deeper, and Burgerpants arches, fur standing up on end. Then he pulls away, gasping for air, his mouth damp, pink, and shining, his teeth bared.

“I can’t breathe!” It's the sharpest he's ever spoken to Mettaton and it feels good, better than being on his knees even.  

“I don’t pay you to breathe, darling,” he finally croons, curling a lip, exposing a fang. He cups Burgerpants’ chin and it makes his spine tingle and heat gather in his gut. “Now come here.”

He obeys, eyes slitted but head dipping back into the space where his thighs meet. He laps at his clit, two fingers pressing in, in—

“Oh—”

He should get paid to do this instead.

(He should get paid, period—he should tie Mettaton up and make him give a raise.)

His thighs tighten, and he wonders if Mettaton will try to crush him in between them again. That hadn’t been fun at all.

(But he’d come so hard, whimpering into his boss’s cunt, his hair aching from being pulled so hard.)

“Touch me here.” Mettaton’s voice is tight, wavering, right on the verge of coming. And he grabs Burgerpants’ paw hard, placing it over his trembling heart.

Burgerpants is careful not to use claws (“I will cut them out; don't tempt me,” he'd said in this awful cold voice—the kind that that made his fur rise and his dick ache.)

“YES.”

His jaw hurts, but he wouldn't dare stop licking, sucking, curling his tongue in the hot, tight space inside of Mettaton. Slick pink from his heart drips down, down to Burgerpants’ mouth and he laps it up obediently.

(He’s so hard it hurts, he's lightheaded with how much he wants permission to come.)

Mettaton arches against him, pressing his hips hard into his mouth. He aches, but he doesn’t stop licking, even when the feeling on both ends is nearly unbearable. He wants to do good, he hates so deeply, but he wants to be good for Mettaton.

(What he wouldn’t do for a finger inside of him—dignity be damned.)

His boss slumps, finally, sighing in his musical voice. When Burgerpants pulls away, drooling, wiping come away, his cheeks are red. He doesn’t want Mettaton to look at him and see how badly he wanted this, because it’ll be lorded over his head until he drops dead.

And he hopes with every cell in his body that that day will be soon.

“That was awfully eager of you.” Mettaton wets his perfect, dark lips. He’s panting, still whirring with release. His grin is positively feral, dangerous even.

“Trying to impress me?”

Burgerpants is shaking with how much he hates—hates his job, whatever this job is, hates his boss, hates what that voice does to him, hates what he would let Mettaton do to him if they had the time.  

“Stand up,” he barks, snapping his fingers.

And Burgerpants obeys, of course he does.

He thinks about pulling his dick out and putting it into Mettaton’s warm, soft mouth. He’s only been sucked off once before, those horrible fangs brushing the head the barest amount—and he’d nearly cried when he finally came.

And then those perfect hands are on him, stroking him through his pants, thumbing the wet spot with all the carefulness in the world.

He meets Mettaton’s smouldering pink eyes dazedly, mouth slack and hips twisting up, up—

And the hand is gone—oh no, what did he do wrong—

He’s far along enough to whine, face twisting in disappointment. His thighs are shaking, hands balled by his sides to keep from grabbing at Mettaton’s wrist and begging. How could he have even thought for a second—

“I was good,” he blurts, hands clenching and unclenching. He doesn’t mean for it to come out so wavery, like he’s about to cry. He feels like he might, yeah, but Mettaton doesn’t need to know that. “I was good, please.”

Mettaton only tilts his sharp chin up, grinning wide and sharp behind those full lips.

“Get back to work, Burgerpants.”

And he stands and saunters off with usual grace, heels clicking against the floor, leaving Burgerpants by himself, aching. He knows not to touch himself—he never got permission—and if he wants to keep this job he had better do as he’s told.

So he forces a wretched smile and opens back up for the lunch rush.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this fic came to me in the dead of night and i had to write it if u want to yell at me i'm @uwu_chan on twitter


End file.
